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Haunted House


You can hear the blood-curdling screams yet they're silent. You see the cries of the afflicted women, yet you cant hear. You can see the scars, the paint on the walls, brittling and crumbling into dust in the chilly air, but you cant see. You can read any book from the house's library, but the pages are empty. You can care, but who's there?
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MadMax

First thing is first: I am a musician dedicated to progressive metal, and other genres that carry the guitar. But also, I am a writer that jots down the many bits and pieces formulated by my mind. I am not ashamed of who I am, dedicated to the things I want to pursue, and patient for something I yearn. My mistakes lead to my experiences, my experiences led me to valuable lessons, my lessons turned into my philosophies.

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Comments (1)

jwiener
The title of this poem is very fitting, since the poem itself is haunting and mysterious, especially since it is full of opposites.

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